


absent

by beckettemory



Category: Leverage
Genre: AU where Nate has another kid, Absent Parents, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Lots of references to child death but that's canon, Nate is a slitherer-outer, Set probably in season 4 but pretend the Radio Job happens earlier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-04 12:52:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15841689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beckettemory/pseuds/beckettemory
Summary: Four years, six months, two weeks, and one day. That's how long Nate has been running. Running from his past, from his trauma, from his parental obligations.But it's time to come home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings in this chapter for: references to child and parental death, references to alcoholism

Nathan Ford lived his life in a series of schemes. There was no room for the past in his line of work; if something happened that he didn’t expect, he abandoned the original scheme and changed the narrative. The original scheme became a milestone in the timeline of the job, no more, no less. A necessary step on the path to success, however you defined success for that job.

It was the same when he had worked for IYS; clients’ actions only mattered as far back as the signing of the insurance policy and only became relevant if the company caught wind of possible fraud.

It was even the same as far back as seminary school; while they were taught the history of the Church in class it played no part in the day to day; parishioners’ misdeeds were forgiven and wiped away as soon as they spoke them. Only their good works remained.

Nathan Ford had no room in his life for his past. It was just weight that made jobs and life in general difficult. Better to shrug it off and live in the present and the future.

But try as he might to keep his past at arm’s length, he couldn’t succeed with everything.

So many events, trivial embarrassments and minor tragedies, were pruned away in an instant. He no longer carried the weight of losing his aunt at five years old or his first kiss getting rejected in junior high. The disappointments of birthdays forgotten were mere blips in his subconscious when he thought over his life.

But the big events, dominated by two in particular, loomed large and threatening in the back of his mind every waking second. They informed every decision he made down to the kind of breakfast cereal he bought (never Froot Loops) and when he got a haircut (“keep your hair outta your eyes, boy, it makes people trust you better”).

Living with reminders of what he’d lost proved untenable. Easier to cut and run than navigate the world constantly reminded that he had survived his only son and his father.

So Nathan Ford now lived his life in the immediate past, the present, and the immediate future. Nothing beyond the end of the con. Nothing of his own past beyond the skills he needed for the job.

He couldn’t afford the distraction if he gave even a moment’s attention to the sound of a heart monitor flatlining in his mind.

 

* * *

 

Nate’s skin started crawling the instant he and the crew set foot on the plane that would take them to Los Angeles, and it didn’t stop crawling when they took off, touched down, or gathered their bags.

It wasn’t just hospitals that were tough. The whole damn city set him on edge.

Eliot was the first one to notice his distraction. He traveled with only one small bag, carried with him onto the plane and kept at his feet, so when the others were messing with the baggage claim Eliot was free to study their leader intently.

“Thought Maggie moved to San Francisco,” Eliot said, getting to the root of the issue immediately, with laser focus. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his small duffel hanging from his shoulder, his eyes scanning the area even as he spoke quietly to Nate.

Nate blew out a breath. “Moved back a couple months ago. The de Young job she had was just consulting, temporary.”

“You gonna see her while we’re in town?”

Nate turned away, fed up with this line of questioning.

“We don’t have all day,” he called to Sophie, Hardison, and Parker. “Tedeschi is stalling the festival judges for us, we gotta get down there.”

Hardison joined Nate and Eliot immediately, his phone held gingerly between his teeth to free up one hand to dig around in his backpack even as he walked, dragging his rolling suitcase behind him with his other. Sophie sauntered over a moment later, giving Nate a look of mild annoyance. Parker, though she had her bag at her feet, glared at Nate in annoyance, waiting a solid fifteen seconds just staring at him before picking up her bag and joining the group.

“Right. Good luck with that,” Eliot mumbled, leaning in briefly so Nate could hear him but his voice wouldn’t carry far.

“You don’t look so good,” Parker noted. She narrowed her eyes. “Are you in withdrawal?”

Nate rolled his eyes.

“No,” Sophie said. “He had two drinks on the plane.”

“Alright, are we done monitoring my drinking habits? Can we go?” Nate snapped, turning on his heel and walking towards the rental car desks.

“You’re being weird,” Parker called.

A while later, their cars collected and the festival and parking addresses double checked, Sophie slid into the passenger seat of their sleek black car. Nate could hear bickering through the closed windows as Eliot, Parker, and Hardison tried to decide who would drive the other car and who would get shotgun.

“Are you alright?” Sophie asked gently.

“Not you, too,” Nate groaned.

Sophie huffed. “We’re not adversaries anymore, Nate. You can shut us out all you want but you must know we are on the same side here. All five of us.”

Nate stayed silent and backed out of the parking space.

Only once they were on the freeway did Nate speak.

“Been a while since I saw Maggie, is all,” he said. “I’m, ah, trying to decide if I should… It… It’s not easy.”

Sophie softened. “Of course it’s not _easy,_ Nate. It shouldn’t be. The two of you went through something traumatic and couldn’t heal while you were together.”

Nate winced. “I think you misunderstood. I was explaining why I’m acting like this, not inviting a psychoanalysis of my failed marriage.”

Sophie threw up her hands. “I give up.”

 

* * *

 

It was easy enough to forget his unease while they were deep in the con, leading a congressman and local celebrities through the winding rows of vendors at the festival to turn them around, “misplacing” paperwork, stowing stolen goods in cars, planting the seeds of discontent in them and everyone working under them. This was what Nate had been waiting for. He could survive the trip as long as he stayed working. Compartmentalize or drown.

And then it all came crashing down.

Later he would look back and berate himself for not considering whether Maggie would attend the festival. Of course she would. She fancied herself an amateur sommelier and the festival boasted a tasting class and themed tours of local vineyards. But none of that stuck out in Nate’s mind until he rounded a corner, coming down off the high of pulling off a con smoothly, and saw a familiar laughing face at a vendor’s booth ten yards away.

He tried to play it off and walk away, but Maggie saw him just before he could slip into the crowd. She looked surprised for a moment, then angry, then her face settled into a complex expression Nate had never been able to puzzle out as she closed the distance between them.

“Mag. Hey,” Nate said lamely, kicking himself.

“What are you doing here?” Maggie asked, looking torn between wanting to hug him and wanting to smack him.

“We, uh.” Nate gestured vaguely over his shoulder. “One of the organizers hired us. Trouble with the congressman.”

“You weren’t going to call and say you were in town?” Maggie asked pointedly, her face settling decidedly into anger simmering just under the surface.

Nate didn’t know how to answer, and Maggie waited, then nodded once in understanding.

She turned away, catching Nate’s sleeve to hold him in place while he was out of her field of vision, and called out into the crowd.

“Abi!”

Nate’s knees went weak. “Mag, please, don’t,” he pleaded, trying to back away, but Maggie wrapped her surprisingly strong grasp around his wrist instead of his sleeve and held firm.

“What?” a faint voice responded, nearly drowned out by the crowd around them, and Nate’s heart raced.

“Maggie, come on, I can’t--”

“You have to,” Maggie hissed, fixing him with a glare. She turned back to face the crowd. “Come here! I found something you have to see!”

Nate felt like he was going to be sick.

A girl, aged ten years, three months, two days elbowed her way through the crowd. Brown hair hanging loose around her shoulders, blue rimmed glasses. Blue eyes that looked far too much like her brother’s.

She took in the scene in front of her and her face broke out in a huge smile.

“Daddy!” she shrieked, and threw herself forward.

Maggie let go of Nate’s wrist as his hands automatically came up to catch his daughter.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, fighting so hard to not let his inner turmoil show on his face. “Missed you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings in this chapter for: discussions of death (in the hypothetical), mention of child abuse and corporal punishment, references to alcohol and alcoholism

“Nathan,” Maggie said sternly an hour later, fixing him with a glare. “Seven o’clock.” 

“Seven,” Nate confirmed. 

“Promise me,” Maggie commanded, and Nate saw a bit of desperation in her face. “Promise me you won’t just disappear again.” 

Nate blew out a breath. “I promise.” He stepped closer, making sure Abigail’s attention was elsewhere. “I, uh, can’t stay forever.” 

“We’re getting by just fine without you in the day-to-day,” Maggie said, “but she needs to see her father  _ sometime,  _ Nathan. I’m asking for a week.” 

Nate hesitated. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said lamely. 

“You better. Seven o’clock,” Maggie repeated, then softened and kissed his cheek. “Bring her a present,” she whispered before collecting Abi and heading towards the festival exit. 

Nate watched them go, his head starting to pound. 

“When were you going to tell us?” Parker asked, suddenly behind him, and Nate flinched. 

When he turned around Hardison and Eliot were there, too, Eliot with his arms crossed over his chest and brow furrowed and Hardison squinting towards Maggie and Abigail. Parker’s face was open, the same evenly curious look she always wore. 

Nate shrugged as casually as he could. “You didn’t need to know.” 

Eliot leveled an incredulous glare at him. “You didn’t think we’d wanna know you had another kid? What happens to her if you die, Nate, huh?” 

“Havin’ an ex-wife to worry about, now that’s one thing,” Hardison agreed. “But a daughter, estranged or not, that changes things.” 

“It doesn’t change anything, okay?” Nate snapped, heading in the vague direction of the festival stage and leaving Eliot, Hardison, and Parker where they stood. 

“Where are you going?” Sophie asked, falling into step with him from out of nowhere. 

“I don’t know,” Nate muttered. He swiped a hand over his face. “How much of that did you see?” 

“Enough,” Sophie said. 

Nate sighed and picked up his pace. 

As he expected, Sophie wound her hand around his arm to drag him to a stop and stepped close to speak without her voice carrying. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, sounding betrayed. 

“I don’t exactly like advertising that I’m a deadbeat dad,” Nate said. 

“I should hope not,” Sophie said. “But we’re your  _ family,  _ Nate.” 

Nate didn’t say anything, just headed towards their rental car. Sophie kept hold of his arm but loosened her grip and followed a step behind. As they passed the last line of vendors on the periphery of the festival he took a sharp left into a makeshift alley between the rear of the booths and the fence separating the festival from the parking area. He walked, not sure where he was going, until he couldn’t go any farther. 

“Okay, go on,” he said wearily, tugging his arm out of Sophie’s grasp and leaning back against the fence tiredly. 

“What?” 

“If you’re gonna lecture me I’d prefer to get it out of the way now,” he said, running both hands over his face and rubbing at his temples. 

“You don’t need a lecture,” Sophie said, and Nate peeked at her briefly before resuming his rubbing. “You need an attitude adjustment.” 

“You know, in my house growing up, an ‘attitude adjustment’ was a spanking. You gonna spank me, Soph?” Nate asked sarcastically. 

“I’m ignoring you,” Sophie said. 

Nate groaned and righted himself. “I need to go,” he said. “Mag wants me to come for dinner and stay in the guest bedroom while we’re in town.” 

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Oh no, whatever will you do?” she asked, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead like the bad Shakespearean actress she was most of the time. 

“You want to take my place?” Nate asked. “Be me and get Abi’s hopes up that I’m gonna stay, see it in Maggie’s face how much she resents me? And what if Mag’s parents come over, huh? What would you do, if you were me?” 

At some point he had ceased being sarcastic and had started asking for genuine answers. What  _ would  _ he do? 

Sophie’s eyes were full of pity and Nate looked away. 

“God, I need a drink,” Nate muttered. 

_ “Talk  _ to me, Nate. I want to know,” Sophie said, stepping closer. “Tell me everything.” 

Nate thunked his head backwards against the wood fence. “What’s there to tell?” he asked, looking towards the sky past the tops of vendor booths. “That Mag and I had another kid? You know that now. That I left them right before Dubenich? That-that I saw Abi once in all the time I stayed in LA that first year we were all together? Tell me, what can I say that will satisfy you?” Nate snapped. 

Sophie was silent. Nate raised his head to look at her and found her staring at him, some mixture of offense and sadness on her face. 

“When you’re ready to talk, you know where to find me,” she said evenly, and turned to walk away. 

“Soph,” Nate said, shoving off the fence. “Wait--” 

“No,” Sophie said, not even turning her head as she walked towards the festival. 

Nate stopped in his half-hearted pursuit of her. “Shit,” he muttered, and rubbed at his brow. He glanced at his watch. Ten ‘til six. He needed to get a move on if he wanted to make Maggie’s by seven. 

He headed towards the car, his stomach in knots, trying desperately to think of a way to survive this that didn’t involve being drunk off his ass the whole week. Nothing came to mind. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings in this chapter for: references to child death, abandonment issues

When Nate pulled up to Maggie’s new house he swore under his breath. There was an old Cadillac parked in the street in front of the house, one Nate recognized. This in addition to the silver hatchback and a third car, a generic black sedan, parked behind it in the driveway. Nate also recognized the black sedan after a moment and sat in the car for another five minutes, debating dropping the Lego Star Wars set on the front door and booking it back to the hotel so they could leave for Boston first thing in the morning. 

Maddeningly enough, it was Sophie’s potential disappointment that made that otherwise stellar plan impossible. 

He swiped a hand down his face to steel himself, then ruffled his hair in the mirror. He got out of the car, taking the Lego set with him, and locked up, then trudged up the short path to the house. 

It wasn’t a huge house, but it was nice, and in a good neighborhood. Nate found himself automatically scanning for security measures and didn’t see any obvious ones, meaning Maggie either didn’t have any or they were so top-of-the-line that Nate couldn’t detect them. He wasn’t sure which was worse. 

Nate had to stop looking then, because he had reached the door. Before he could knock, though, it opened. Abigail stood in the doorway, beaming up at Nate, and he grinned reflexively and presented the Lego set. 

“Got you something,” Nate said, and Abi snatched the box and squealed. 

“How did you know I wanted this one?” she asked, looking closely at the pictures on the side of the box. 

Nate shrugged. “I try to keep up with what you’re into,” he lied. Maggie had told him at the festival earlier that she was on a Star Wars kick. 

Abi grinned and grabbed at his wrist, hauling him inside. 

“Dad’s here!” she called further into the house as she led him past the stairs in the entry hall and into a living room to the left. 

“Just in time,” Maggie said. The back third of the long room was the kitchen, and she was pulling a dish out of the oven just as they entered. 

Nate didn’t hear her well. His attention was instead drawn to the two people sitting in the armchairs closer to the door. The owners of the old Cadillac. 

“Christine,” he said quietly, nodding slightly at Maggie’s mother as she stood. She looked as motherly as she used to, with a plump figure and grey hair that looked like storm clouds around her face, but she wore a tight, careful mask of geniality. 

Abigail rolled her eyes and went to kneel by the coffee table to unbox her new set. 

“Nathan,” Christine responded, coming close and grabbing his arms softly as if to take him in. She smiled gently. “Good to see you,” she said, not needing to add any gestures to convey that she was heavily disappointed in him. 

“You too,” Nate said as the other person, a man in corduroys and a comb over, stood up from the armchair. 

“Son,” Ralph, Maggie’s father, said shortly, sticking a hand out for Nate to shake. “Been a while,” he said pointedly as Nate shook his hand and Christine let him go. 

“Yeah,” Nate agreed vaguely. “Sorry ‘bout that.” 

“We’ll talk later,” Christine said lightly as she turned away. “Margaret, do you need a hand with that?” 

“No, Ma,” Maggie said. “I’m almost done.” 

“I found it,” a voice called from the hallway off the kitchen, and a moment later Father Paul walked in holding a tablecloth triumphantly. He stopped short when he saw Nate, though, and a slow grin spread over his face. 

He dropped the cloth on the counter and came over, pulling Nate gently by the arm back out to the foyer. Nate caught Maggie’s eye, silently begging her to rescue him, but she just smiled innocently at him and kept chopping whatever it was she was chopping. 

“I didn’t know if you would actually show,” Paul said quietly when they were alone in the entryway, then hugged Nate hard. “I’d hoped, but…” 

Nate sighed and pulled out of the hug. “Paul,” he began, but his words died on his tongue when he saw Paul’s expression. 

“They’ve both been having a hard time,” Paul said. “I can’t get into specifics, but…” 

“Right, seal of confession,” Nate said. 

Paul clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed. “How are  _ you  _ doing with all this, Nate?” 

“Paul, come on,” Nate said. “I’m not--this isn’t a confessional.” 

“I’m asking as a friend, not a priest,” Paul corrected. 

Nate blew out a breath. “I didn’t expect any of this,” he admitted. “We hoped to be in and out--”

“‘We’?” Paul repeated. His face turned incredulous. “You’re not still with--what was her name?--Sophia and Parker and--”

“Sophie,” Nate corrected. “And yeah, I am.” 

“Nate, that can’t be--” 

“I’m in hot water, religiously speaking, I know,” Nate interrupted. “We didn’t-- _ I  _ didn’t plan to stay much longer than the job.” 

Paul looked put out. “You weren’t planning on telling Maggie you were in town,” he guessed. 

Nate let out a heavy breath in one gust. “Yeah.” 

“Nate,” Paul said, his voice stern but with an undercurrent of compassion. “You’ve gotta start taking responsibility for your actions. You can’t run from your past forever.” 

Nate was quickly approaching his limit. He decided to try one last thing to get Paul off his back. “It--it’s hard to see her,” he said. “She’s the same age Sam was when he…” 

Paul’s demeanor softened. “I know,” he said quietly. “Maggie knows it, too.” His face turned stern again. “You’re not the only one who lost him.” 

With that, Paul clapped Nate on the shoulder, quickly rearranged his face so he looked pleasant again, and headed back to the kitchen. 

Nate stayed out in the foyer another long moment, internalizing Paul’s last point and trying to recover from his own. He hadn’t been lying. Abigail looked so much like her brother. And she would not only survive him, but grow much older than he had been allowed to. 

It was Abi herself who finally interrupted Nate’s spiral. She wandered in quietly, barely making a sound until Nate noticed her with a start. 

“Dad,” she said, her voice soft and almost pleading. Her eyes darted to the front door and back to her father. “You’re not leaving, are you?” 

Nate gave her a sad smile and gathered her into a tight hug. “No, sweetheart,” he said. “Not yet.” 


End file.
